


Bedtime for Bertie

by discostew



Category: Jeeves & Wooster, Jeeves - P. G. Wodehouse, WODEHOUSE P. G. - Works
Genre: Comfort, Fluff, Gen, a goodnight fic, interpret it how you wish, mildly, written at 11pm on my phone so apologies haha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-14
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2019-07-12 05:13:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15988361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/discostew/pseuds/discostew
Summary: Bertie is completely sauced after a night out, and needs a little bit of help getting to bed.





	Bedtime for Bertie

'Good night, old boys!'

'Safe walking Bertie!'

  
My Drones chums cheered at me as I left the club, flinging streamers and such about like it was madi gras.

It says in Timothy's first diatribe somewhere that we shouldn't drink water, only wine, since it's good for the tummy. I dashed disagreed with this right now as my tum felt like what I could only describe as what a waterwheel must feel like. I had no ill feelings towards it though, since I had a rather dilly night out and would gladly feel like several waterwheels for a time as good as that.

I have to say, I was rather sauced. Even the rubbish on the street seemed the bee's pyajmas and the trees looked quite green and merry despite it being pitch dark outside. I whistled a song I rather fancied to myself, and wobbled up the stairs to the door of my flat, where I rang at the bell until Jeeves let me in. He seemed to be mid-polish at the time and answered with a couple of knives and forks in hand. 

'Good evening, Sir. Welcome home. I trust your night out was enjoyable?'

'It was perhaps one of the greatest romps I've been on, and will surely go down in Wooster history, Jeeves.'

I flung my hat and coat on the floor (which Jeeves picked up), and thought I might rather enjoy having a slice of toast with jam, but Jeeves advised against it since the tum was rather queasy from the gorging and drinking and such down at the Drones, and I agreed with him and tottled off to get ready for bed.

 This is where my problems started to arise. The sleeves of my shirt were already a major trouble, but the fact that there was about ten little holes to put things through was causing an indescrible case of brain ache.   
'Jeeves, Old Man, would you help me button up my pyjama shirt? Will only take a mere sec. I'm sorry if you were busy when I got home, I couldn't work out my bally keys. It's quite a freeze tonight, eh Jeeves?'

He seemed to glide into the room, and began to calmly help me button up my shirt in his usual sort of way and respond to my ramblings with the sort of loving nod a parent might give an excited young blighter when discussing his favourite animal. The bed beckoned to me with the warm-y comfiness of it, and I attempted to climb in, but Jeeves did the dastardly deed of pulling me aside.

'You must clean yourself up and brush your teeth first, Sir.'

'Oh really, Jeeves. I think one night without doing it won't cause much dental or hygeinical trouble.'

I protested, but he whisked me off to the bathroom and ran the sink, placing a fresh flannel in front of me and handing me the tooth-cleaning nessecities. I gave a dull sort of look at my toothbrush and tried over and over to get the paste onto it but it kept falling off like some sort of dead leech. Jeeves did that for me and I brushed them clean and minty-fresh.

Next, I had to wash my facial area. This was another thingo I couldn't manage in my current state of intoxicated bliss, because I kept trying to turn the tap the wrong way to wet my cloth and ignoring the fact there was already water in the sink. Jeeves did me another kind gesture and sat me down and washed my face and such for me. 

After that ordeal was done, I was finally off to bed. I'd never felt so relieved to see my pillows. I fell down onto the bed and smothered myself with the douve, closed my eyes, and snuggled up, but the powers that be decided to give me the pip yet again; while most people would prob find some sort of bliss in this situation, I of a sudden felt an achey sort of feeling where my heart should be. An emotional ache, the sort of melancholy that might really bring a chap down. I felt quite lonely.

'Actually,' I croaked 'Jeeves. Will you stay until I'm off to nod? It won't take long.' 

Jeeves pulled up a watchful chair and sat on it.

'Certainly, Sir. Is something the matter?'

'Nothing really, I just feel a tad smidgen sad suddenly.'

'Perhaps it is an after-effect of the wine, Sir.'

'Hm. Maybe. It's sort of... a feeling of a lack of a certain whatsit. You know? Like a something that isn't someplace, or the feeling you got as a little chap when you lost your favourite adult in the market.'  
  


'I think I understand, Sir.' He placed a hand on my kneecap and gave it a spirit-lifting pat or two. 'I believe you should try and retire for the night.'

I nodded in agreement, but shortly both gulped and sighed when the concept of Jeeves not being there entered my noggin. It was turning into a bally panic.

'But you'll stay won't you?'

  
He crossed his arms and leant back in his chair, and I swear I saw him smile. 

'I wouldn't dream of leaving, Sir.

Goodnight. I hope you have a pleasant sleep.'

  
'Goodnight, Jeeves.'

And with that, he tucked in my blanket and off I went to sleep. 


End file.
